Five Days To Change A Life
by beautifulmornings
Summary: It took five days for them to find their happy ending. This is the story of those five days. I do not own anything, characters, location, parts of the plot etc, belong to JK Rowling
1. Day One

Day One

Location: Hogwarts Yule Ball (4th and 6th years)

Hermione shone in that periwinkle robe, her hair gleaming like copper in the dim light – as she twirled, her dress billowed around her ankles, and she almost seemed to be weightless as she spun across the dance floor. Unfortunately the guy spinning her so beautifully was obviously not to the same standard. His tux was dull, so unlike she was that night, his hair so flat, he was so awkward on the floor. They were diamonds and brass, life and death, that night. What was truly unmissable though, and that spiked his heart and rid him of his usual joyful banter in ways he could not understand, was the look in his eyes – clear fascination with the laughing girl daintily pulling him into dance after dance. He could not honestly say that Vicky was not good enough, because he had money, charm, and a clear adoration for Hermione, and, most importantly, he made her smile.

Annoyance flitted across his face as his date broke his reverie, pulling him on to the floor to dance with her; he paid little attention smiling weakly when he stood on her feet, his jests feeble, and soon his date, rolling her eyes at his distracted antics, huffily pulled him back down to their table. He continued to watch Hermione in peace until her face was pink and her legs ached and she wandered over to the drinks table. As she drew near he saw his chance, cheekily winking at her, making her flush as he complimented her outrageously. Laughing, his date beckoned Hermione over, and warily she complied, sliding into a seat across from him. Soon the five at the table were happily immersed in conversation, Hermione flawlessly integrating herself with their group. God, she really was amazing. He would himself withdrawing, only absentmindedly responding as he watched the girl in front of him, how her hair was so perfect, her eyes so bright, her smile so true. Her laughter was birdsong to him. Eventually she excused herself to once again find her date, and he watched her go in awe. Flushing horribly, he gruffly brushed off his brother mocking him over his odd behaviour, and pointedly ignored the calculating looks his date gave him. Once again turning back to his quarry, he resumed his watching of the dancing girl, so flawless in every way that night.

As the ball drew to a close, Hermione had vanished and his efforts to catch sight of her proved fruitless. Mournfully, he excused himself to go to bed whilst the others decided to continue their night at the Three Broomsticks, dragging his feet up the stairs towards the common room. As he approached he thought he heard raised voices, and as he drew to a halt in front of the portrait hole, he realised that there were indeed raised voices coming from within, and that they were quite obviously Hermione and Ron – after all, who else managed to reach that pitch and ferocity? Wryly he smiled, realising he ought to wait out here until the storm subsided lest he be caught up in it, he slumped down against the wall, listening to the words thrown between the two; the words of his brother were so cruel, and hers so pained and hurt. Anger rose like a lion in his chest, and he wanted to charge in there and tell his brother to stop being such a bloody git and to go and think about what he was saying before he opened his stupid trap.

Before long the voices slipped to vicious whispers before stopping entirely, and warily he slipped inside, trying to act casual in case either party lingered. What he saw made something foreign in his chest ache so horribly, he actually considered going to visit Madame Pomfrey. Grimly, he walked over to the girl plopping down beside her, asking what his idiot of a brother had done this time. She gave him a watery smile, and his heart danced in his chest. Hermione proceeded to tell him the entire story, spouting fresh streams of tears periodically, her voice never wavering. He admired her strength and ability to see what was right and follow it no matter what. He watched fascinated as she calmed herself quickly, abruptly turning to him she spoke directly to him for the first time that night.

"Don't worry, I'll vacate your shoulder soon, I know it was terribly silly of me to get so upset of Ronald. I should really know better by now, but, oh, he's just such a prat sometimes. Maybe he's right though."

Another watery smile and he shook his head numbly at how little she could think of herself, to think Ron could ever have a point. The anger once more licked at his insides and he felt a dark look slide on his face. Hermione shot him a worried look.

"Honestly Herms", she smiled weakly here, "my brother is a prize idiot, and a tosser of the first water. You are so much better than his pettiness. Plus, now you have the best looking brother charmed into your arms", he winked slyly.

His little speech seemed to break her bad mood, and she smiled her first real smile since he had last seen her. It was dazzling, and he was momentarily blinded. God knows where all those strange feelings were coming from – probably just the fact for that night she had been actually rather pretty, and nothing like her usual swotty self. The pair continued to laugh and joke with each other, and soon he found himself enjoying her company as well as wanting to stare at her with a mixture of shock and awe. Eventually, Hermione stretched languidly, yawning once, before pulling herself to her feet, and with a quick goodnight and a kiss on the cheek, slipped up the stairs to the girls dormitories, whilst he was left staring at his shoes, wondering where on earth she had his this side to her, shaking his head he tried to reason that it was just one night, and it had just been a mixture of testing the new products for the shop, the dim lighting, and the startling transformation of the girl. Then why, did the traitorous voice in the back of his head remind him, that even as her hair had fallen from the careful up do, her dress rumpled and make up smeared around her eyes, did he want to kiss her, and why had he almost missed her bushy hair, and swotty nature – felt she was not as beautiful as she was on Monday mornings, hair running amuck and books stacked around her? He growled fiercely, wondering who could have spiked the punch, because he, Fred Weasley, could never like some as uptight as Granger. No, he comforted himself, it was simply a fluke, and by tomorrow all would be right with the world again. Dismissing all thoughts of her, Fred laboured happily over new product ideas until deep into the night.

In the girls dorms, the girl that had occupied Fred's thoughts so frequently that night, was berating herself for her girlish behaviour – honestly, kissing Ron's brother on the cheek would never make anything better, let alone help him see that she had started to like him. Sinking into a fretful sleep after much internal argument, her last waking thought was that if she felt so sure it was Ron she wanted, why was Fred lodged so persistently in her head and why was she still blushing at the thought of her lips on his cheek?


	2. Day Two

**Disclaimer:** Characters, locations and part of the plot etc belong to JK Rowling.

**Day Two**

**Location:** St. Mungos (Aged 17 and 19)

Hermione paced the floor, whilst her two best friends watched her bemusedly. She was frantic with worry, hands wringing, and every few minutes she would stop and murmur something to herself too low for the others to hear, before resuming her pacing with renewed vigour. Things carried on in this fashion for hours. Many people came and went - most of the Weasley's came and left several times, whether to answer important calls, to find somewhere to rest, or to go check on someone else. Hermione remained the only constant, refusing rest or food until she could verify with her own eyes that he was truly going to be ok. Numerous Healers approached the distraught girl, but she would hear none of it. To Hermione it was irrelevant that she was still covered in blood from the battle, that she had not slept in over sixty hours (and counting) or eaten in twenty four – no, Hermione would not rest until she was sure he was ok. It had been her fault this had happened, if she had been more aware of her surroundings maybe he would not have had to jump in front of her to save her from whatever god awful hex the Death Eater had thrown at her. Hermione had made sure to personally hunt down and find that particular Death Eater, and when he came back with a broken nose, no one questioned her when she claimed he had been clumsy and tripped over his own feet – a considerable feat since she had his blood on her right fist. Smiling wryly, if a little guiltily at the memory, Hermione flopped down in the chair, startling a dozing Ron. Whilst Hermione had not moved, the boys had rotated as to who stayed with her, as understandably, there had been more than one casualty and they were all exhausted, Harry in particular.

It was several hours and dozens of nervous Healers being harangued by Hermione before they had let anyone in to the ward to see him. Hermione was first in, perhaps even before Mrs Weasley, although once she was in there and had seen he did not look like he was on the brink of death, she stood by to let the Weasley matriarch mother her son into oblivion. Laughing Hermione eventually dragged Mrs Weasley away from her son after a particularly painful looking hug, gently suggesting that she had had an extremely busy day, and that maybe it would be for the best, if she were to take a quick rest, after all, her being so tired would surely not be of benefit to anyone. Fred had been pleading with her silently for over twenty minutes for her to detach his mother, and eventually, once she got over the humour of the situation she had relented under his pitiful gaze. Finally free of his overbearing mother, he had sighed wearily but happily, turning his shining blue eyes onto her face suddenly and startling her. Despite having just been in intensive surgery, and having been forced to drink a medley of potions and be slathered in several incredibly disgusting looking creams, Fred Weasley had not lost an ounce of his charm; blue eyes twinkled from underneath a wayward mop of hair that glinted like copper in the stark hospital lights – even the traditional Weasley twin grin had not deserted him, and as he turned it on Hermione, she felt her breath catch slightly, for reasons she could not even fathom. Fred and her had barely spoken since the Yule Ball, and she had convinced herself that it was just the comfort he had offered that had led her to act so out of character that night, but here, where it was simply just the two of them, and he looked at her so happily and full of life, that all the old doubts she had nursed came flooding back. Swallowing, she took a step back, prompting a frown from Fred.

"Hermione, you look a bit peaky, come sit down and rest for a bit – I can call the Healer if you want", he said, concern washing over his face as he patted an empty stretch of bed tantalisingly close to him.

Nervously, Hermione smiled back, weakly and unsteadily reassuring him that she was perfectly fine, and it was nothing a good night's sleep could not cure. They slipped into an uneasy silence, Fred not once coming out of his uncharacteristically sombre mood, and Hermione aching to make him smile, to pull up the corners of his mouth into the familiar lopsided grin. Realising the path of her subconscious thoughts, Hermione looked down at her shaking hands, fidgeting relentlessly, not noticing Fred's gaze fixed intently on her as he wondered who, or what, could have put this courageous Gryffindor into such an anxious state. Hermione was rescued fairly soon by the approaching herd. The Weasley could be heard from down the corridor, and Fred's features visibly brightened at the thought of seeing the rest of his family. Hermione suddenly felt so inadequate, it was his family he wanted to see, not his little brother's swotty little friend. She flushed deeply, hiding behind a curtain of hair, and stammering to think of excuses to leave graciously and subtly so he was not aware of the fact he so obviously felt she was an intrusion.

"I should go, you, you probably want to be alone with your family"

Fred laughed, swiftly rebuking the idea, "Don't be silly, you're always welcome Herms, you practically are family".

Fred did not know why the words had tasted so wrong on his tongue, what was wrong with comparing Hermione to Ginny anyway? That was all it was after all. Just then, the Weasleys barrelled in obviously alerted by their mother, along with hair, in a sea of red hair and chattering voices. They soon surrounded his bed, vying for Fred's attentions, which he eagerly gave them. Hermione slipped unnoticed from the room, and when he found his eyes unwittingly searching for her distinctive head among the Weasley red, he could no longer see him, and for reasons he could not grasp, that troubled him. George quickly pulled his attention back, and the confusion written on his face quickly fell away to reveal the mischievous boy underneath though his thoughts did not stray far from the girl with curly brown hair who had valiantly fought for his world no matter how it ridiculed her and who had perhaps committed the bravest feat of all, saving him from his mother.

When the Weasley clan slowly started to trickle back out of the ward and the skies started to darken once more, it was just Fred and his faithful twin left; Fred was obviously not allowed to leave yet, and George was unwilling to leave his twin again, not after that near death experience anyway. The two chatted absentmindedly until dawn rose once more, talking of those who had also been injured, joking about Fred getting sponge baths from nurses, and talking of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes recent successes. George was almost asleep and was getting ready to leave when he accidently brought Fred's mind back to the girl he thought he had forgotten about three years ago.

"Fred, my dearest twin, you are so very, very lucky, to have such a hot little witch waiting for you day and night"

Confused, Fred glanced doubtfully at the dour nurse he had been assigned to, and wondered if maybe George had been injured too during the battle. Laughing heartily as he followed his gaze, George corrected him.

"No my brother, I meant Ronniekins little friend, you know, too much hair, nose in a book, not called Harry? She hasn't left the hospital since you came in, she made one of the interns cry when they told her they didn't know when you would wake up. From what I hear, she even broke the nose of that guy who cursed you. Bloody brilliant she is, can see why our little Ron might be interested."

Stunned Fred just stared at his brother, thinking it was just another of his pranks, and he would soon break into ferocious gales of laughter at his brilliant gag, but he never did, simply, slid from his chair, shrugged on his jacket, stumbling over his chair leg before pulling open the door and exiting none to quietly earning several disapproving looks from the matron. The last thing Fred saw before the door once more swung shut and obscured his vision of the outside world was Hermione curled up in one of the plastic hospital chairs, face and clothes bloodied, hair everywhere, and leaning on Ron who was drooling unattractively. She truly amazed him. Stifling a snigger, he turned over intent on getting to sleep, but his mind had other ideas.

Hermione had not fallen asleep instantly, she had brooded, unsure of herself like she had not been in years. Something about Fred kept drawing her in when she was least expecting it, and she was not sure now whether she could simply pass this off as another fluke. Twice was not coincidence, and this time he had not been offering comfort when she had been hurt – she had waited for him in hospital the same way she would Harry or Ron, yet labelling him the way she did made her uncomfortable. With Harry and Ron it did not matter what she looked like, but with Fred, she felt so young and uncomfortable, like she had something to prove. Fred Weasley made her incredibly nervous and she did not like it. Hermione had always been so sure of everything, even her feelings for Ron – it would either work or not, and there was no point fretting over it. Sighing grumpily she tried to push the topic from her mind, but insistently it refused to budge and she was resigned to examining why, as she cursed her inquisitive nature, she felt so strangely around this particular Weasley brother; George was almost a mirror image, except the missing ear, and she felt nothing but sibling affection and mild annoyance for him. She let another frustrated sigh slip from between her teeth. Examining that last few days, Hermione thought back to the sacrifice he had made. The curse that had been thrown had been particularly tricky and incredibly dangerous if not caught soon enough, and Fred had to have known that when he jumped in front of it. She frowned, questioning why he would do that, before thinking back to his earlier comment and finding the solution. Because she was like his sister. Hermione was shocked at the bitterness with which she thought this, before shaking her head as though to visibly expel the bad grace with which she accepted that reprieve. This seemed to solve the problem as to why Fred made her so nervous though, he had just saved her life and she felt as though she owed him for it. Simple. It was then that Ron arrived, plopping his gangly form into the seat next to her, and pulling her from her reverie. Smiling at him, she yawned and laid her head on his chest. Ron's hand was soothing as it stroked her hair, and soon she found herself drifting into sleep, thinking that Ron really was the best brother for her, even as the traitorous part of her mind wondered whether Fred would do the same, how it would feel to fall asleep with him, if he would try to cheer her up, or find out what had troubled her so, if he would even notice as Ron had so evidently not, that something was not right. Sighing, Hermione finally fell into blessed sleep, curled up like a small child in Ron's warm embrace as a wave of exhaustion crashed over her.

Back in his bed, Fred Weasley tossed and turned before finally settling his back and staring at the blank ceiling. The image of Hermione all tucked in to Ron like she was his bothered him for reasons he could not pin down. He cursed himself for being so stupid and childish, and wishing for clarity. The ceiling did not provide further answers, and he ruffled his hair in frustration, wanting to get out of bed, and go to Hermione, ask if Ron and she had something going on. Quickly he dismissed the jealous notion, troubled by his reaction – after all why should it bother him? Frustrated, Fred realised he knew the answer, thinking back he could name many examples when had been over protective of Hermione, wound her up so she would speak to him in his seventh year, played pranks on Ron when he upset her over Summer. Squeezing his eyes shut Fred tried to ignore the glaring truth his mind was trying to force him to accept. Fred had risked his life for a girl he had barely known, he could not claim she was like a sister; the idea was repellent and felt wrong to even think. Fred Weasley, infamous prankster, had some stupid childhood crush on a girl his brother was in love with. He had never wanted to hurt one of his brothers more – except maybe Percy – but right now he wanted to shove his youngest brother of that chair, and make Hermione laugh until she could not even remember who Ron was. Frustrated, he tried to control his raging hormones; he knew he would never sleep if he could not find a reason for these irrational thoughts except for the obvious truth. Eventually Fred found it. Of course he did not like Hermione, no matter how brave and intelligent she was, no, he had simply noticed she had grown up, and needed protecting from boys who would see the changes in her looks and take advantage of that – he was simply being a good friend. If that involved wanting to shag her brains out, that is. With a last frustrated groan, Fred finally gave up on sleep, distracting himself with counting the ceiling tiles. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Day Three

**Disclaimer: **The characters, location, parts of the plot etc, belong to JK Rowling.

**Day Three**

**Location:** Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade (Aged 19 and 21)

Hermione, like most of the Hogwarts students, had chosen to retake the previous year due to the disjointed nature of the previous terms, especially with the final battle happening shortly before Easter and the consequent destruction of several parts of the school; the first year had been twice its normal size to compensate, but it was worth it to allow people to get back to their lives as normal. This was how it came to be that one evening in mid July Hermione was to be found in the Three Broomsticks surrounded by her celebrating classmates. Earlier that day they had received their NEWT diplomas and graduated forever from their beloved school. They had been met with a sea of faces more joyful than seen in many years at the ceremony, the Weasleys taking up a significant percentage of the crowd and taking credit for an even larger percentage of the noise. Now all the seventh years, and the sixth years that had fought in the battle, or knew the seventh years particularly well, had stormed Hogsmeade to celebrate. They had hired out the Three Broomsticks, and the tables had been pushed to the sides, lights dimmed, while music pumped from an unidentifiable source filling the room with a pounding beat that vibrated through the soles of her feet and reverberated through her head. Harry, Ron and she had only just arrived, half an hour after the rest had, and were greeted by faces already red with drink, and voices overly loud to be heard over the pounding bass line. Slightly squashed and claustrophobic but nonetheless happy, Hermione pushed her way through the heaving mass of scantily clad bodies, smiling and stopping to chat for a few seconds with various groups of people. Eventually reaching the bar, she pushed her thick hair off her sticky neck, fanning herself with her hand as she ordered three firewhiskeys – she was of age now she defended, and had just worked continuously for an entire year, she deserved to let her hair down – before levitating the steaming glasses over to where the three had set up camp. When she arrived she had found the twins had joined them, along with a fairly inebriated Ginny and a barely dressed Lavender Brown who was currently fawning over Ron. She watched with detached disgust and mild hurt as Ron did not push Lavender off, in fact, he even appeared to encourage her lecherous advances. Freezing so that she could watch the display undetected, she failed to notice Fred watching her worriedly as his gaze flickered to the cause of her distress, his eyes hardening at what he saw. Stiffening, Hermione straightened her spine, walking coolly and confidently towards the table, smiling brightly at them all, watching amusedly as Ron flushed a deep red as he realised she must have seen him and Lavender. With a quick chant, the table knocked back the drinks, laughing as they surfaced. The alcohol burned pleasantly and Hermione felt warm and wonderfully alive as the drink seemed to pump through her system in sync with her heartbeat. They quickly ordered another round.

The table degenerated as the group grew steadily more drunk. The heat was palpable and Hermione had quickly stripped off her heavy jacket, and folded her legs up on the seat, forcing her dress to ride up her legs. Fred was transfixed; in his tipsy state he was entirely unaware of how obvious his eyes were on Hermione's legs. George quickly commented, loudly, and the table descended into laughter, except for the two people who flushed in embarrassment and another in anger. After that, the atmosphere became almost toxic, and Ron refused to remove his arm from Hermione's shoulder which she seemed to not mind, much to Fred's chagrin. His insides burned with envy that his brother got to touch this elegant creature so casually. Fred had moved on in the last year, ignored the witch that made him feel so confused and insecure, and found himself a nice girlfriend in Angelina Johnson, whilst Hermione and Ron had obviously gotten very cosy with each other back at school. He frowned before ordering two pitchers – one of meade, one of butterbeer - and a bottle of firewhisky. The occupants of the table turned to look at him inquisitively, and he just waggled his eyebrows at them mysteriously. His gaze once more flicked to Hermione, and he found that she was watching him without a trace of embarrassment, he felt uncertain, although that was quickly swallowed by the vast amounts of alcohol within his system. Gazing boldly back, he only broke the stare when the drinks were set on the table with a resounding thunk. Turning back to the table and grinning evilly, he called over Oliver Wood, the three chasers from the Gryffindor team, planting Angelina firmly in his lap, Luna, Neville, Dean and Seamus to sit round their increasingly crowded table. Hermione was now pressed tightly between Ron and Neville, and seemed nonplussed by this. Smiling at her oblviousness to this, and obvious tipsiness, he leant in to the table secretively and suggested the three games that made everyone groan with dread but that no one would ever back out of for fear of ridicule.

First came "I have never", the traditional muggle drinking game, which progressed into "I have" which worked on the same principle but saying things you have done, when people began to ran out of things that they had not done. By the end of both games, many awkward and hilarious truths had been uncovered – including the time George had accidently glued himself to the wall during one of their experiments, or how during one of their pranks Ron had decided to come onto Harry (both boys blushed furiously here), but most shocking was Hermione trying to surreptitiously drink when the topic of having had sex came up. Eventually, after much persuasion, and loosening of lips by the copious amounts of alcohol now floating in her system, Hermione admitted quietly but calmly that she and a muggle boy had done it a few times the year before the war as she had been so afraid to have missed out on anything in case she died during the battle. The mood quietened, before laughter erupted as Ron, going purple and pink at the thought of his best friend having done "it", spluttered,

"But, but, does that mean he saw you naked?!"

Even Hermione laughed, and Fred was once more drawn to the way she tilted her head back, not ashamed to laugh, her hair sticking to her sweaty skin and her eyes sparkling in mirth, even if they were slightly unfocused. Once everyone's gullets were sufficiently lubricated, the games got really dirty and Truth or Dare began. In the wizarding world, you cannot physically lie, or back out of a dare without everyone knowing or horrendously embarrassing repercussions, so it was with trepidation that everyone let themselves be confirmed as players. The game got ugly fast, although the twins were gleeful at this turn of events as they exhibited their mischevious side. Eventually, most players decided to leave before it got too ugly, drifting off in twos and threes, or vanishing to go copulate in a dark corner with someone whose eye they had caught, and soon it was just the twins, their girlfriends, and the Golden Trio plus Ginny left. Harry and Ginny left soon to dance, and Ron was dragged off by Lavender, a spark of annoyance lit briefly in Hermione's eyes before flickering back into forced joyfulness as she turned resolutely to Fred, George having slipped off to dance with Katie, and Angelina having gone to talk to her friends. It was just Fred and Hermione left now, and somehow they had shifted so that they were sitting close together. Where their bare arms touched, and their knees brushed electricity seemed to crackle, and it seemed that Fred was not the only one to feel the electricity between them if Hermione's nervous fidgeting was any indication. Smiling slyly, all sense of inhibition and sensibility gone, Fred leaned in dangerously close, watching her eyes widen imperceptibly as his lips brushed against her ear, his request was innocuous enough though, and she nodded in assent, breathing a sigh of relief as he was forced to move back to his original position to pour their drinks. Hermione hated to admit it, but as drunk as she was, she could not deny that Fred lit a fire somewhere in her stomach that she rarely felt, he made her feel special even if he never said it. Hermione found it so hard to resist brushing the hair that fell over his eyes back, or too count the freckles across his nose, and the alcohol seemed to embolden her. She swiftly downed her drink, surprising Fred considering how much she had ingested, before clearly asking him to dance without a trace of hesitation or slurring, sliding out of the booth, and offering him her hand with a fluid grace. Smiling, she led him to the centre of the dance floor, oblivious to the stares they received.

Fred's stomach flipped again, all thoughts of Angelina had long since fled at the thought of being so close to this girl; in her red dress Hermione stood out so brightly amongst the other witches, her legs long and bare drawing his eye up to a figure he could not believe belonged to swotty Granger, but it was not just her body entrancing him, it was the liquid honey of her eyes, the secret smile playing over her lips as she drew him in close, the flush that lit her skin, the fire that burned somewhere deep within this astounding girl. At first, they danced with a reasonable distance between them, respectful of the others boundaries, but soon all thoughts of propriety fled as the bass pushed them together, the other dancers pushing them closer, the heat surrounding them seeming to make them stick together. The once tame dancing was now bordering on illegal, his hands were in places he would never have imagined they would be and she was willingly pressing herself closer. Hermione was so close he could smell the sweet liquor on her breath, and curious to whether or not she tasted as sweet as she smelt, he leaned in. This time Hermione did not back away as she had before, wanting him to kiss her, to finally see whether her fascination with the older boy was founded, to see if she was right about him, and he really would make her pulse race - unlike Ron or any of the other boys she had dallied with. The heat was unbearable and the tension palpable. Time froze. His lips brushed her, gently tasting her, then it suddenly it was as though the world was in fast forward as a mist descended over the pair, and suddenly they found themselves pressed against a wall, unaware of how they got there, his larger body pressing into hers, one hand tangled in her hair. Fred was enraptured, and could not see how he had not done this before, how he had managed to resist the temptation of her for so long. Hermione Granger was amazing.

It took several more minutes for Hermione's analytical brain to manage to penetrate the fog of firewhisky in her head, and suddenly, clinically, Hermione realised she was kissing the brother of the boy she fancied herself in love with, who happened to have a girlfriend who she quite liked. With a gasp, Hermione ripped her mouth from Fred's, staring up at him in horror, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Looking down at her, Fred was confused as to why they had stopped. Had she not liked it? Hermione shrank under his gaze, squeezing her eyes shut as dread unfurled in her stomach. God, she was worse than Lavender, Fred had no idea who she was or what was going on, she felt so cheap and used. Hermione fled without a backward glance, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Panting, she pushed her way through the crowds back to her friends, a bittersweet ache in her chest as she realised that she had fallen in like with Fred Weasley and that he had awoken something within her than no one else ever had, whilst he had no clue who she was, was just another drunken snog, a name on a list longer than her arm. With bitter clarity and no doubt about the situation, she forced herself into conversation with her friends, deftly avoiding their questions about where she had been and flushing bright red as Ginny whispered quietly in her ear that she might want to cover her neck. Hermione looked down, hair hiding her face as she faded into the shadows of the booth.

Fred looked down at his empty hands, turning them over slowly, wondering where the girl he had been so in love with, if just for that moment, had gone. Fred knew very well that he was drunk, but he was not stupid. Hermione had realised she was kissing the wrong brother, and had fled, disgusted with herself for having touched him. His hands curling into fists, Fred let his mind wander to what she and Ickle Ronniekins would be getting up to now; he wondered if she would kiss him with the same passion? If she made the same noises for him as she had just moments ago? He got a sick pleasure imagining that she might think of him when she was with Ron. Then a wave of disgust washed over him, and dejectedly he realised that he had probably unwittingly forced the poor girl into it, that he had practically assaulted her. He felt so dirty and unclean, he wanted to scrub at his skin until he felt better, until the skin was red raw and aching. Sighing deeply, he went to find his girlfriend, determined to feel less like a traitor, and remind himself why he loved Angelina so much, and that his fascination with Hermione was only skin deep. Fred found Angelina chatting amiably in a booth opposite the one he could see the Trio at. Cringing internally, he slipped into the booth, and flashed Angelina a winning smile, hoping she could not see the evidence of what he had done written across his face, that the guilt he felt was undetectable to her probing eyes. Soon he slipped easily into conversation and as Angelina pulled him to the dance floor to dance, he marvelled at how perfect she looked in the flashing lights, how perfectly alluring that smile was, how lovely the sway of her hips was, and how empty and hollow she seemed in comparison to Hermione. In a last bid to forget the girl he who had plagued him sporadically for the last three years, he pulled Angelina into a searing kiss hoping that this would reignite the fire that he had once held for her, but it was to no avail, because even though Angelina could not seem to tell the difference, he felt as though this was all wrong, that he should be here with another girl in another dress. Even as Angelina pulled him towards the door whispering seductive promises in his ear, his eyes turned back to the table where Hermione had been sat, searching for her distinctive form, only to find her gone. Turning back to Angelina, Fred followed her back to her flat barely able to stomach the thought of what would come next, knowing it would not be his girlfriend he pictured in his mind when they did it or that he dreamt of that night. Fred Weasley had come to realise that all his denials would be for nothing – he was standing on the cliff's edge, his balance already lost and poised to fall for Hermione.

Hermione had seen the way Fred had kissed Angelina, seen the passion he put into it, seen her lead him towards the door, and known with sickening certainty where they were going and what they would be doing. Deciding she did not need her imagination to show her what it thought that might do, she swiftly stood, excusing herself with a small smile to her friends before slipping out the side exit and into the cool night air. Out here she was suddenly blindingly aware of how thin her dress was, and how even though it was July, that they were still in Scotland. Shivering, Hermione began to trudge towards the main road where she could apparate back to the room she was currently staying in at the Burrow or wait for her friends at the all night cafe. Hermione's heart beat frantically as she heard footsteps chasing her, drawing steadily closer, before calming as she saw a flash of red hair. As he drew closer she could see quite clearly that it was not the Weasley she had hoped for, come to realise he wanted her not his stupid, older, more experienced girlfriend. Ron stood before her panting and adorable in front og her, and she decided right then and there that Ron would never let her down, that he would always be dependable, and that he was the Weasley brother she would pursue from now on, that Fred Weasley would forever remain a drunken mistake in her distant memories. Ron hooked his arm possessively round her shivering shoulders, gently offering his cloak, which she gladly took, before talking earnestly to her all the way up to the apparition point. However, Ron failed to notice that Hermione did not utter a single word, and that her bowed head hid the tears she had been unable to stop slipping down her cheeks in mourning for the beautiful boy who had managed to tear her heart so efficiently with barely a backwards glance. The tears glistening in her eyes were the only reminder that the night had not been as perfect as it had seemed.


	4. Day Four

**Disclaimer: **Characters, setting, etc belongs to JK Rowling.

**Day Four**

**Location: **The Burrow (Aged 19 and 21)

Deep in the Burrow sat two lonely figures both contemplating that last month. Hermione sat curled up on her bed ardently trying to avoid two of the Weasley boys. It had been just over a month and already Hermione could see it would be entirely useless for her to try and forget Fred. Fred was like a bad penny – he just kept coming back. Sighing she wondered if Ron had gone out yet; she loved Ron – as a brother – and could not lead him on especially as recently he seemed to be getting more and more confident, trying to have his arm round her all the time, inviting her everywhere with him, and she really did not want to have to have that conversation. Hermione flopped back on the bed and wondered how long she could avoid the Weasley boys, they were such a pain and so disruptive, a complete waste of her time (mostly). That didn't stop her wishing Fred would apparate into her room like he had so many years before. Meanwhile, two floors up Fred sat, distracted and morose, in front of the desk. He knew he needed to concentrate on the plans for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but his mind kept straying to the current bane of his life. Wherever he was, she was not, and if she happened to be even close, she would jump up as though burnt and flee the room. It gave him satisfaction to see that she was the same, if not worse with Ron. George had started to worry, not only had he promptly dumped Angelina the night he had kissed Hermione, but since then had not even mentioned another girl, although his longing stares at Hermione over the dinner table could surely not go unnoticed much longer. Fred simply could not carry on like this, and he resolved that tonight, the last night they would eat as a family until Christmas, that he would speak to the girl so tangled up in his thoughts so he could at least find out where he stood. Maybe then he could move on with his life. Neither occupant thought to examine why they were in such a state.

Hermione had spent the summer at the Burrow along with Harry, and most of the Weasley clan. Come Autumn Harry and Ron would go off to do their Auror training, whilst Hermione, sick of the war and fighting, had eschewed anything that involved attacks and raids, and chose to become an intern at St Mungos where she could help deal with the aftermath. None of them would be around much after that, having chosen the two most demanding careers that a wizard could choose, and this was to be their final summer where everyone could be together. In honour of this all the Weasleys except Percy and Bill who had families had moved into the Burrow so that they could reconnect and finally relax free from any fear of attack, or worse, in Hermione's opinion, studying for exams. This meant that it was so much easier for Hermione to avoid Fred and Ron, and that it was so much harder for either boy to find her in the rambling corridors of the Burrow without disruption from the other members of the house. Mrs Weasley and consequently the rest of the Burrow had been in a flurry trying to prepare the biggest, most extravagant meal that the Burrow would ever see, in fact they had all been preparing for days: Ginny had finished shopping for school supplies earlier in the week, the entire house had been scoured by the Trio so everything gleamed, the Twins had been in charge of removing any inventions that could spoil the night and keeping the meade and butterbeer topped up. The rest of the Weasleys claimed they had work to do and avoided the frazzled matriarch as much as possible so as not to be roped into some unsavoury task or another, although not always being as successful as they hoped as Charlie had found out on being instructed to go calm the ghoul. In fact, today was the only day any of them could have any peace as Mrs Weasley refused help from anyone who felt duty bound to offer and threatening severe punishments and hours of cleaning for anyone who ruined her work or even went within several metres of the kitchen or garden. Overjoyed the Weasley rabble (plus guests)had either been forced or had spilt out the door with a fervour not seen for years to play Quidditch, or do anything really, that involved being outside in the glorious sunshine and away from any last minute tasks their mother could think of. The twins, winking slyly at one another, had quickly grabbed Harry and Ron and charged at the lake, dropping both into the warm water. Hermione laughed uncontrollably at the bemused and puzzled expressions on the two boys' faces until she sensed that the two mischievous boys were going for her next. Pretending to not notice as they went to grab her she swiftly turned so that George fell straight over her outstretched foot and gambolled into the water yelping loudly. Fred not realising what had happened until it was too late twisted on the way in creating a splash that doused all the other occupants of the water again. Hermione was in hysterics, she had not had this much fun in so long, and to finally get the Twins instead of them pranking her had felt so good. Smiling she took pity on the bickering boys who were now engaged in a fully fledged splash war as they argued over whose fault it had been. Leaning down she offered a hand to the nearest boy, incidentally Fred, intending to haul him out the water, but as his hand clasped hers little electric tingles shot up her arm and she let out a surprised "oh" as she promptly lost her balance and tumbled headfirst into the water. When she surfaced, laughing and embarrassed the other boys had circled her and she quickly realised that this would be payback for "helping" them get into the lake. Hermione let out a shriek as the boys closed in, quickly ducking between two of them and swimming for the pier on the other side of the lake hoping that the surprise would hold them at bay for long enough for her to escape. No such luck. Hermione was barely halfway there before she felt a hand round her ankle and she was forced to stop, noticing it was Harry, she whispered something in his ear, something that may have gently suggested that it was the Twins who pushed him and Ron in, and that now they could get revenge whilst they were unaware. Feigning capture, they waited for Ron to catch up, telling him of the plan, before all three ducked under the surface. Confused the Twins looked around, not noticing the three shapes in the water swimming rapidly towards them. Then, with an almighty cry and several loud splashes, the Trio erupted from the water, forcing the Weasley boys under the water. The war lasted for several more hours before everyone grew tired and they all traipsed from the water to get dry and talk about absolutely anything that crossed their minds. It was not until they were called back to the house to set the table did Fred manage to shake the image of the way Hermione had looked under the water; her hair had swirled around her mystically, her dress seemingly blowing in some invisible breeze – with her white dress, Hermione had looked like an angel. Mentally sighing, Fred gathered the cutlery and plates and went to set the table with the other four.

After setting the table, Mrs Weasley had shooed everyone away once more to get dressed and shower, especially as Ron still had some moss from the lake smeared across his cheek and the Twins were covered in grass stains from the various fights that had erupted. The five trudged up stairs rowdily, fighting loudly over who got first dibs on the shower, only to find that Hermione had gone missing, and that the bathroom was now already occupied. They had forgotten they could apparate. It was another hour or two before everyone was called for dinner, and whilst the boys were prompt, salivating over the thought of the delicious cooking sure to be ready for them, Ginny and Hermione arrived late, Ginny insisting that Hermione would not wear jeans and would at least let her dress her for a change, to which many heated rows had sprang as Hermione deemed nearly every outfit she was shoved into inappropriate or lewd, until sighing Ginny threw up her hands and rummaged in the back of the wardrobe eventually pulling something green and flowing out and handing it to Hermione telling her that she would wear it, no complaints before stomping from the room and down into the garden to seat herself ready for tea. Minutes later, Hermione followed hastily, forced to admit that the dress was lovely. The skirt hung loosely from her waist to several inches above the knee (something she was very nervous about) whilst the top was a simple scoop neck, the entire thing was jade green and the skirt was silky against her legs. Barely stopped to acknowledge the group of people at the table, Hermione forced herself into the seat next to Ginny who was glowing with smug pride.

Leaning over to Hermione Ginny whispered, "Fred certainly likes what he sees."

Hermione ducked her head, flushing, and wished she had just worn her jeans instead if only to avoid the shocked looks several of the boys were giving her as though disbelieving that she actually had legs. Glancing up from under her eyelashes she was instantly aware of Fred's gaze boring into her like a drill, and the way the flush deepened under his gaze and the itch she felt to reach out and touch that glorious Weasley hair. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the weird looks Ginny was giving her at her unexpected reaction to her idle chatter, Hermione looked up confidently and quickly immersed herself into conversation with whoever was on her right, Charlie she thought absentmindedly, as the conversation flowed into how his work was doing. Throughout the conversation her eyes flicked to Fred, only to find him always in conversation with another of his brothers or being scolded by his mother – Hermione ached to have such easy familiarity with him, and sometimes wished that she herself had been a Weasley if only to feel so loved. Fred was studiously ignoring Hermione, knowing that it would not be long before George put all the pieces together, especially considering the fact that Hermione looked so radiant, which Ron had noticed quite obviously as he alternated between staring at her and trying to hug her, and Fred kept glaring at him as though he would attack him if he did not keep his hands to himself. Hermione always easily shook off the youngest male Weasley's advances, seemingly without noticing, which eased Fred's mind and heart beyond belief, and he felt he could once, more relax. Seeing how eager his little brother was to capture his girl's heart made Fred all the more determined that tonight he would talk to Hermione, and that nothing would get in the way of him explaining everything – she would have to see that she meant something, was more than a passing fancy to him, and maybe, just maybe, she would return the sentiment. Fred felt overjoyed at the prospect and launched himself full force into the conversation around him once more. Hermione, seeing Fred chatting away so animatedly, allowed herself to watch him, instantly wanting to know every facial expression he made, understand every gesture he made, be able to read his mind and know what he was talking about; she had had several butterbeers and a few glasses of meade, and whilst not drunk (she had learnt a valuable lesson from graduation) she was verging on tipsy, and knew that she should not have any more for fear of being incredibly stupid. Frustrated, she glanced at the glass clasped in her hand very aware that she would not even have had this much if that stupid boy did not make her quite so nervous.

Dinner had been finished for several hours now, and the sky was almost black, but still the Weasley carried on. Hermione had gotten more and more subdued and now quietly went to leave, excusing herself gently from the group, to various goodbyes and hugs. Noting her figure receding into the darkness around his house, Fred hurriedly made to go after her, cutting off Ron who had evidently had the same idea, scaring him away and racing up the room where he knew Hermione would hide herself. Gingerly pushing the door open, Fred slid inside, marvelling at how small and innocent she looked, curled up on the window ledge, staring out at the lights from the Weasley's meal that hovered over the field below. Steeling himself, he nervously cleared his throat, causing Hermione to spin almost falling from her perch, as the words she had prepared for Ron to follow spilt from her mouth.

"Ron, please, I can't be with you, there's someone else and you know I don't love you like that...."

Hermione trailed off as her mind registered that this was not Ron, but rather Fred. Her heart caught in her throat, whilst he stared mesmerised at the way the moonlight hit her face. Several beats of silence later, Fred cleared his throat embarrassedly and asked Hermione if they could talk. Nodding mutely, Hermione made room for Fred's lanky frame on the window sill, and looking away so as not to let the alcohol coursing through her system and making her feel so powerful take over and make her kiss him until she was breathless.

"Hermione...." Fred sounded so nervous and Hermione felt sick thinking maybe he was going to reject her as she had Ron, "Hermione, what are you doing to me?"

Fred's voice came out strangled and he cursed himself for not saying what he had planned to, before forging on with what he needed to say.

"You make me feel so sick and every time you're nearby I can't help but behave like a five year old with a crush on someone years older than him. Something about you makes me need to have your attention, makes me want to be the best I can so that maybe you'll notice me. I can't help but want to see you smile, and with the way you looked tonight – I think I'm going crazy, I can't do this anymore. I can't be with anyone. I can't concentrate on my business, and it's all your fault."

What started out bitter had turned mournfully sad, and Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes and threaten to spill over as she realised how angry she made him, how much he really hated her because she was acting so superior – she had tried so hard not to upset anyone, and here was the person she most wanted to not hurt telling her she had been ruining his life. She gulped. Fred saw the obvious distress in her eyes and in the way she held herself, and realised how cruel his words must have sounded to her, and swallowing, he said the six words that would set an unstoppable chain of events in motion.

"Hermione, I think I love you."

Hermione's head snapped up, and she looked utterly shocked, but something unidentifiable lurked in her eyes, something that seemed to be so very happy and so heartbroken all at once. Hermione knew she would have to talk to him now, to explain why this was going to hurt her so much.

"Fred, the thing is I don't think I love you – I know I do. I've not been able to keep you out of my head since Yule Ball, and I realised that you were always going to be more than a school girl crush when you were in the hospital and I thought you weren't going to make it. I knew I loved you that night at graduation when I willingly let go of my morals just to spend time with you. It broke my heart to see you go home with Angelina, just as it must have hurt you to see Ron with me for most of the summer."

Fred went to interrupt, but she did not let him, cutting him off with a small hand pressed to his lips.

"Ron is my best friend, and your brother, and it would break him to know that we had felt anything for each other. You make my heart race and make me more nervous than I can ever remember being, and sometimes it's so hard to not just reach out and brush the hair from your eyes, or kiss you to see whether you taste as sweet as I remember, but I won't, I can't, not for "I think". I won't ruin a friendship that has kept me going for the last eight years, and probably until the day I die, for a maybe. I'm so, so sorry."

Fred swallowed, eyes downcast, desperately searching for something, anything that could change her mind, and wishing he had been honest and told her that he did love her, not shied away, saying I think, knowing full well that he had for almost four years. Suddenly, Fred realised the one thing that could perhaps save this chance. He kissed her. Hermione was so soft, tasted so sweet under him, and he wished he had done this sooner. Every moment seemed to stretch him into forever, in fact, he barely registered her hands gently pushing him away, complying only because he knew that to continue would ruin everything more. Looking into her eyes, Fred knew. Knew that that kiss had just hurt her more, reminded her of what she was turning away, and he instantly regretted it. Hermione looked to so fragile and broken.

"Fred, I can't, I just can't. I'm so sorry, but Ron, well you know what he's like."

Her smile was bitter, and Fred felt anger rise like a tidal wave at the fact that that little snotty git had ruined this chance for him.

"Fred, I think, I think maybe you should go now"

Hermione's voice was distant and broken, her face turned to the window, tears coursing slowly down her cheeks, as she pulled her knees in tight, hoping that that would stop her heart from breaking right then and there. She did not turn around until she heard the door swing shut, and footsteps recede down the hall. Only then allowing choked sobs to spill from her mouth and the tears to fall thick and fast, sliding down her cheeks and dropping onto the peeling paint of the window. Hermione knew that this would hurt more than anything else ever had, and that it would take a long time to get over. Steeling herself, Hermione vowed to not return to the Burrow until she was entirely sure that the ache in her chest was gone, and that her voice would not crack when she spoke of Fred. Tired and sniffling gently, Hermione slid into bed, turning to the wall, and falling quickly into a worried sleep.

Upstairs, Fred paced angrily, hands running tirelessly though his hair. He had banked a lot on her either saying yes or no, not this emotional torment. He as angry at everyone: himself, for letting himself fall for a girl too practical for it to ever work; Ron, for ruining the chance he had to try and make it work and not even knowing that he had done it; and Hermione, for knowing how happy they could have been and rejecting it because she could not be certain that it would work. Life was built on chances. Fred would not be humiliated like that again, and promised himself that he would not be around the girl until his rage subsided, and his heart hardened towards her and all those things that he loved about her. Ron though, Ron was a different story he thought evilly – he could not avoid the poor boy, so he would now be the prime tester for every and all the pranks he could think of, willing or not. Annoyed at how much this affected him, Fred threw himself into bed, refusing to turn around even as he heard George slam into the room much later and attempt to make conversation with him. Stubbornly, Fred resigned himself to silence.

For the last two days of summer, neither Fred nor Hermione could be found in the house simultaneously, if at all, and the atmosphere was almost painful to be around. This was not going to be easily fixed.


	5. Day Five

**Disclaimer: **Characters, Setting etc belong to JK Rowling.

**Day Five**

**Location:** Ministry of Magic, 3rd Annual War Ball (aged 21 and 23)

It had been two years since Fred and Hermione had seen each other, both avoiding anywhere that they might meet; Hermione had not visited the Burrow once and tried to avoid large Ministry functions like this whilst Fred stayed clear of Ron and Harry's flat and only went to parties held by their mutual friends if she would definitely not be going. This would be the first time either could potentially see the other, and for the first time since that meal at the Burrow just over two years prior Hermione felt that maybe she was ready and that seeing him would not affect her, and that maybe her heart would have healed enough for another encounter. Everyone was required to take a plus one, and seeing as Harry was taking Ginny, and Ron was taking Luna, Hermione had decided that she would take someone from St Mungos, eventually deciding on Mark, an intern who had started at the same time as her and with who she had a lot in common - including not wanting a relationship. Fred had decided that he would not bring anyone, fully aware that he, as a Weasley Twin, was not held by the same social practices and that it would not cause any sort of problem for him to turn up on his own. Several hours before the ball, and both parties were hurriedly getting ready, aware of how long it would take for them to battle through the mob of reporters and fans outside the Ministry, especially if they wanted to remain unscathed. Fred arrived a good ten minutes before Hermione, oblivious to the fact that she would be there, but entirely confident that it would not matter if she was. Quickly finding Ron and Harry, he struck up a light conversation before his eye was caught by something at the door. Something that looked a lot like Hermione.

Hermione stood nervously at the door, eyes scanning for anyone that she might know whilst Mark remained firmly attached to her arm, whispering comforting things into her ear and making her laugh for the first time that day. Relaxing she began to descend the stairs.

Down in the crowds, Fred turned to his two companions, heart beating nervously, and asked if Hermione would be attending and receiving bemused yeses before whipping back round to catch some guy whisper in what was obviously Hermione's ear and Hermione laugh quietly but confidently before beginning to descend the stairs. Suddenly Fred felt as though he were six years younger and was watching Hermione at the Yule Ball – the parallels were uncanny – Hermione was a glittering star whilst the guy with her was nothing more than a cloud that obscured her beauty. Then Fred remembered why he had avoided that girl for so long, and anger pulsed and roared in his head, his faces flushing deeply as she strolled across the floor, her ruby robes swirling around her with grace and people clearing a path almost reverently – she had managed to find someone new already, whilst he, so confident of his abilities, was left alone and pining. As much as Fred loathed to admit it, her reappearance forced him to realise that he still struggled not to compare every girl he saw to Hermione, that he missed the way she smiled when he did something that made her laugh, and most of all, missed the way she looked at him as though he was the most important thing to her at that very moment, and her turning up now and making his heart beat so horribly fast once more only worsened the entire situation – he was obviously not as over Hermione Granger as he had led himself to believe. Hissing slightly at this uncomfortable truth, Fred turned away from the mismatched pair, and excusing himself rudely to go get a drink he stalked off as though he was would be ready to kill anything that even came within ten feet of him.

Harry and Ron quickly caught sight of Hermione, mentioning how oddly Fred had behaved as she had appeared; causing her to once more flush a red that rivalled her dress before, as Fred had done, excusing herself swiftly. Once she had left her two best friends behind, she smiled weakly at Mark knowing that he would soon cheer her up and help her forget why she avoided these dreadful things, and pulled him over to the cloakroom so that she could drop off her jacket and bag and avoid the hungry stares that Fred would surely shower her with when he once again caught sight of her. Hermione dithered again as the pair went to re enter the ballroom, before swallowing thickly and tightening her grip on Mark's arm, hoping against hope that they would not be spotted before they reached the dance floor where no one would interrupt. Hermione was lucky, and the two were soon spinning and twirling along with the other dancers. However hard she tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach, Hermione was unable to entirely quash the feeling that this dance was meant to be done with another person entirely, that there was no passion in this dance, just two figures mechanically following steps laid out for them before, robotic to the end. Sighing, she turned her head away from Mark's questioning gaze, knowing that he knew her well enough to know that something was wrong and desperately hoping that he would not question her on it tonight, and that she could just stay for a couple more hours before disappearing as silently as she had arrived. Hermione knew that could never be possible, and resigned herself to a night of horror and another reminder of why not to ever attend anything the Ministry thought was a good idea, because that horrible something that lurked in her stomach was the ache she felt at knowing Fred was probably over her, whilst she had not even looked at another man since that awful night – she missed him so terribly. Hermione wanted to cry.

The pair danced around each other for several more hours, rotating between groups so as to never come in contact – well until Fred went to get drinks and Hermione unwittingly seated herself with the rest of the Trio, smiling happily at them though she had feet aching from the hours of dancing she had done, as Mark went to get drinks from the bar. Fred was first back, sliding back into the booth, heart freezing as he saw Hermione sitting oblivious on the other side of the table but unable to leave without it being glaringly obvious to everyone that he was avoiding her and she him, so feeling trapped he slowly sat, passing the drinks around, nodding apologetically at Hermione yet again unable to draw his gaze away from her. A scant minute later Mark appeared, handing a tumbler of firewhisky to Hermione and slipping into the seat beside her and freezing Fred's heart as effectively as if he had dipped it in ice. It was not long before Mark once again disappeared to dance with some other girl and Fred observed how little this bothered Hermione, quickly reaching the conclusion that maybe they were just friends because the Hermione he knew would not be so casually attached to someone, would need to know that it was her they were devoted to and that she would not be cast off within the blink of an eye. His heart unconsciously relaxed and after several more drinks he whipped up the courage to ask her to dance knowing she could not refuse; Fred had long since ceased to be angry or hurt and now all he could think about was how it had felt to be with her all those years ago, and how happy she had made him – how happy she could still make him, and that this could be his last chance to apologise to her before it truly was too late and her heart was attached to someone else. Within minutes the two were swallowed up by the crowd of dancers and Hermione's heart traitorously told her that this was how a dance should feel – dangerous and passionate, as though each step was a story yet to be told and that the dance was alive beneath their feet – even as her head tried to make reasons for why she should escape. For once in her life, Hermione decided to utterly ignore everything her head told her, and let her heart lead her, seeing as letting her head control her had not worked out very well last time. It seemed like mere seconds before the song ended and Hermione went to leave. Fred, unwilling to let this angel go, pulled her back. Hermione's eyes connected with his as another song started up and they fell into the familiar steps. Neither could pull their gaze away, and it was with absentmindedness that neither noticed that their dance sped up, become faster and more furious as both battled with each other silently, as though reliving all that had happened since they had both been in school; the other dancers made way for the pair who danced so beautifully, their faces blurring as they sped past only pausing as he led her into daring dips, in which her hair would brush the floor, before she was roughly pulled back to standing and they would once more whirl away as though they had never stopped.

Four dances later and Hermione's hair was spilling out of its ties whilst Fred's tie had run amuck during one of their more passionate movements. Breathing heavily, the pair stopped, still too enraptured with the other to notice that they had moved away from their friends and found a secluded tabled far from prying eyes. Neither spoke for several minutes, not daring to even look at the other, before nervously Fred began to speak.

"Well, erm, I know it might be a bit late, but I just thought you should know that I did love you, that I still wish I'd had the nerve to tell you that two years ago. I still think about you y'know."

Hermione laughed softly as Fred flushed a brilliant red that clashed with his hair, before speaking up knowing that if she did not he would surely leave, too embarrassed to see her again.

"I miss you Fred. Sometimes, well I wonder if I did the right thing, if we could have been, could be something beautiful, that I shouldn't have been so scared to just take a plunge. I guess that maybe it's too late?"

The last sentence came out like a question, and Hermione cursed herself and hoped fervently that he would tell her it was not too late, that he still loved her like she loved him and that they could have a second shot at what should have been. She looked at the table as she heard him go to speak.

"Hermione, for someone so smart, you're incredibly stupid sometimes."

There was laughter in his voice, but Hermione felt so humiliated that she had so obviously misread the signs and that he was certainly over her, in fact, that he probably had his own girlfriend now.

"Hermione, it'll never be too late for us. Come here"

Beaming Hermione stood, letting Freed pull her up and swing her round as though she weighed nothing, squealing in delight as he gently set her down once more. Pushing herself up onto tiptoes, Hermione brushed her lips against his, feeling him respond eagerly and sweetly, before smiling and pulling him back onto the dance floor to dance once more.

The couple never once left each other's sight that night, and for one of the first times since the affair started, neither could find any doubt or shadow of remorse in their minds. Even in the face of their friend's shock (in Ginny's case, knowing glances) the two merely laughed, confident that no matter what happened, that they would try their best, and that nothing would ever get between them now. For the first time in years, Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger were truly happy.


	6. Epilogue

**A/N:** This isn't necessarily part of the story that's vital to the plot, but I thought it'd be nice to just give people a snapshot of how it worked out for them 'cause I know it really frustrates me when it implies they are together without telling you if it ever works out.

**Disclaimer: **Characters, setting etc belong to JK Rowling.

**Epilogue**

**The Wedding Day (aged 23 and 25)**

The day was a blur, they had been together for a little over two years, and it had been just over a year since their engagement. Almost no one could believe that these two, of all people, were to be married, that they were so in love, but no one could deny that they were. When Fred and Hermione were together they could almost never keep their eyes off one another, and they had barely spent more than a day or two apart since the Ministry Ball – this day was inevitable really.

Hermione shone in a simple white dress as she slid down the aisle on her father's arm, Fred barely managing to remember to say "I do" so caught up in his bride's face was he. Hermione blushed furiously as they kissed, and from then on the day was anything but peaceful. They had opted to have the meal at the Burrow and the field was packed with hundreds of guests each of whom wanted to be the first to congratulate the happy couple, and a stack of presents almost the size of Fred had begun to accumulate in the Kitchen; the meal was delicious as ever, and George utterly humiliated the couple with his toast, although Harry and Ginny's joint speech almost made Hermione cry as Fred beamed with happy pride. After the meal, the music had been pumped out and Hermione and Fred, just like that night two years ago, twirled around the floor, unmatched by any of their guests and too lost within each other to notice that everyone else had left the floor to give them their privacy long ago. The party had lasted late into the night, the guests had dwindled slowly and each wished them every happiness before disapparating. Ron and Harry were the last left, Harry taking a very pregnant Ginny home after wishing her a wonderful marriage, and Ron being supported by a smiling Luna as she dragged him, stumbling, up to the bed his mother still kept for him.

The couple disapparated straight to their flat, kissing as soon as they landed, and fumbling their way into the bedroom, before slamming the door shut and sinking into the mattress together.

**The Pregnancy (aged 24 and 26)**

Barely a year after their wedding, Hermione bound into the kitchen one morning, full of excitement and nerves and entirely unsure of how Fred would react to her news. Hermione had suspected that she might be pregnant for a few weeks, but had been too anxious to find out, knowing that Fred wanted a large family so that their kids could have the support of a family like his did, and Hermione had wholeheartedly agreed having always wished that she had siblings to play with when she was younger and a friend to support her unrelentingly when she was older. Finally, she had had the guts to get a test at St Mungos, although without telling Fred in case the results were negative, and this morning the owl had come bearing news. Hands shaking, she had ripped into the letter, letting out a happy shriek as she raced downstairs to tell her husband.

Fred was sitting comfortably eating toast at the breakfast table before Hermione came rushing in, bounding over and hugging him until he was entirely sure he could no longer breathe. Gently pulling her into his lap, he looked at her questioningly. Her reply was garbled and excited.

"Oh, Fred, it's wonderful news, just what I was hoping, oh. I don't know if I can get this out properly - just read this."

With that she thrust the parchment under his nose, carefully scrutinising his face as he read the letter.

Fred dropped his toast and his mouth hung open in shock. Hermione looked on, incredibly worried that this had not been what he had wanted, before he scooped her up, kissing her soundly and dancing round the kitchen with her in his arms, shouting the news at the top of his voice as though determined everyone should know immediately. Eventually Fred put her down, spinning her in his arms, before dashing off to work to tell his twin, whilst Hermione went to owl the rest of their family to tell them of the wonderful news.

Hermione was pregnant – with triplets.

**The Birth (aged 29 and 31)**

This would be Hermione's fourth birth. The triplets - Sirius, Albus and Rose - had arrived just before her 25th birthday, swiftly followed by Molly two eighteen months later, then aged 27 had come Arthur, and now she was preparing for George and Fred junior. Hermione's water had broken earlier in the day, and Fred, entirely used to it by now had swiftly apparated her to the room in St Mungos that was always given to the Weasley family. Looking across, Hermione could see Luna, who was only on her second child, relaxing as Ron held her hand. Smiling at the sweet image, Hermione turned back to face her own husband knowing that within a couple of hours she would be cursing the man and threatening to castrate him – without magic – if he ever came near her again. The thought made her laugh quietly. Fred looked up at her worriedly and once again she thought how lucky she was to have managed to marry such a wonderful man and to have had five beautiful children already. Rose, Molly and Arthur all looked like their father, as she assumed the twins would, whilst Sirius and Albus were more like her although every single child, even Molly, who had inherited her grandmother's practicality and sternness, were mischievous in ways other children never would be. It was a Weasley thing, she had always joked.

Five hours, much shouting, two broken fingers, and one apologetic husband later, Hermione cradled Fred and George junior. Like the original twins, they were spitting images of each other, taking after their father right down to the number of freckles on their cheeks without a trace of Hermione in their looks at all. The two cooing babies, already intent on hair pulling and full of joyful smiles and twinkling eyes, were utterly perfect, and Hermione smiled tiredly as the Weasley's trickled in to visit their newest additions. Luna had given birth several hours prior so the family flitted between the two beds, George seemingly fascinated by the new Twins. Hermione could swear that she had seen Fred and George already planning to corrupt the two younger boys and smiled at the thought before calling George over.

"George, I don't want to see you corrupting these two."

His face fell.

"Not if you aren't going to take responsibility for it and be their godfather, anyway."

George beamed again, high fiving his brother, who looked lovingly and astounded at his wife, unable to believe that she would not stop them introducing her children to the world of pranks. Their lives would be utterly perfect he thought.

**The Forever After (aged 32 and 34)**

It was summer and the Weasleys, as usual, had congregated at the Burrow. In addition to Fred and George, Hermione had had three more children. Hermione junior (who had arrived a scant year later) was the spitting image of her, right down to the huge hair, whilst the second set of twins, Richard and Jane, who were born a year after that, were a mix of the two, even taking after Hermione's parents slightly. Hermione was once again pregnant, and for the final time, she vowed, as incredibly, she was expecting a second set of triplets. None of her children were yet over 10, and already she had ten, with another three on the way. They had far surpassed Molly and Arthur, but it did not matter Hermione mused, because she would not have it any other way – they had been destined to have a large family, and having all those twins and triplets just confirmed that. In fact, Hermione was almost entirely sure that she would probably end up having two more children after this, even though she ardently denied that to anyone who asked.

Smiling happily at the scene before her, Hermione could barely identify whose children were whose; on top of her ten, Ron had had six, George and Katie had three, Bill and Fleur had two, whilst Harry and Ginny had four of their own, and three adoptees from the war – that was an astonishing twenty eight children running around, especially since most of them were under ten still. Most of the children had the traditional Weasley hair although there were splashes of brown, black and the palest blonde mixed throughout the masses, making it all the more confusing for their parents. Everyone was happily talking as the candles drifted through the warm air. Ginny was pregnant again, as was Fleur, and along with Hermione they were all due within the next three or four months, making sure that all the kids would have someone their own age around. As she stared out across the field Hermione felt a warm arm slip around her shoulder, and she smiled warmly up at her husband – he was still as striking as he had been sixteen years ago – and kissed him lightly on the lips before resting her head on his shoulder. They had seemed so unlikely a couple, but they had turned out to be the happiest of all. Hermione's heart glowed in her chest as she knew Fred's would be. This would be their happily ever after, and neither would change it for the world.

Within minutes the two figures wrapped in each other's arms disappeared into the mass of voices and bodies, smiling serenely even as chaos reigned around them.


End file.
